Twas the Week before Christmas

UPDATE: Rooferman called at the last minute and now we have an appointment for Mediation at 4:30 pm TODAY.  I should change his name to “nick of time.” Wish me luck. I feel ill.

I’m subbing all week in the big wig’s office, so I may be MIA for a while. Some notes on recent activities:

  • The Polar Express rocked. LB, being Miss “Running Commentary” stood up and yelled “WE”RE LEAVING!” when the train started backing up.
  • Court again this Thursday
  • Received a letter indicating our Judge has granted Rooferman’s motion to recuse. Our new Judge won’t even see us until February.
  • Rooferman was 2 hours late picking up the child on Sunday. He also couldn’t give me an address where he was staying at, but he tried to give me directions to a trailer park somewhere.
  • My gay friend is back in jail again. He’s been living in a halfway house for the last 3 years and seemed like he might actually make it out. His dad called and asked me to write a letter to the Judge in support, so I’ll be making a trip to the “La Plata Ramada” as the inmates call it.
  • Still haven’t sent Christmas cards.
  • Looking forward to seeing my sister and finally meeting her girlfriend next week.
  • What’s on your plate in preparation for Christmas/Hannukah/Other Holiday celebration?

Suspicions Confirmed

At about 7:15 last night, I thought my Rooferman theories were about to be disproved. I hadn’t received a phone call, offering to drive LB home, so I headed on over to Blondie’s house as usual.

No truck in the driveway. No lights on in the house. There was a maroon Suburban sitting outside, but I’ve never seen it before. I knocked on the door, thinking maybe Rooferman’s truck was in the shop or something. Yeah right. No one answered.

Called Rooferman twice. Finally he picked up.

“Where are you?” I demanded.

“What time is it?”

“7:35 you moron.”

“No way! Sorry I didn’t realize it was so late!”


“Uh, out by your area.”

“Well I’ll be home in 15 minutes. Be there.”

I hung up and sped through the construction zone. Rooferman’s diesel truck was sitting outside my apartment complex. He passed LB off to me and apologized again.

“So what’s going on?” I said. “Do you even live there anymore?”

He looked shocked, like he couldn’t believe I had figured it out.

“Well, I don’t live there right now….but I will soon.

WTF?? WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN? I asked him where he was living then, and he said with “a buddy.”

I told him he needs to let me know where he’s taking our daughter on visitation. I also told him Mr. Mediator only had limited amount of time next week and if he didn’t call tomorrow we would NOT get in to see him. I told him it was his responsibility to call, not mine.

Once inside, LB immediately drank 2 glasses of water and asked for some bread. She also was wearing a diaper. She said her foot hurt because “daddy got her in the street” whatever that means. Its so hard doing this with a 2-year-old who can’t really express everything clearly. I’m lucky my daughter talks as well as she does.

I wish this mystery had been solved, but now I have even more questions. Questions that will probably never be answered.

All I can do is document everything and bring it to mediation, where I will ask every question with a 3rd party present. If he bails on that, I will notarize my documentation and bring it to court.

I’m not letting this get to me. The Polar Express is tomorrow and its going to be totally fun. On a side note: My mom wants this for Christmas. Do you think its a scam? Because it would be the perfect hilarious gift.

Christmas Tree Euphoria

My 2nd post is up at Rocky Mountain Moms Blog. I have yet to be syndicated like the fabulous April did with this amazing post, but that’s ok.  We’re instructed to write about how the economy is affecting our holiday, so I’ll be attempting  a meaningful post soon.

LB and I bought our Christmas tree last night. This is the first time I’ve ever bought a tree from a lot. In the grand tradition of  cheap hard-core, Colorado hippies, my family always buys a permit from the forest service and we hike through BLM land to cut our own funky-looking tree. 

Last year, the culmination of Rooferman dropping us like a bad habit, the post-egg donation sickness and the move-in to my first apartment left me devoid of any Christmas spirit. I managed to hang a stocking and display my child’s artwork, but a tree was beyond my emotional, mental and physical capabilities.

This year, we are in full Christmas swing. My wonderful boss has purchased us tickets to ride the Polar Express. LB’s godmother also happens to work for the train, so she’s tagging along for free, and bringing Auntie JL. As for the Christmas Tree, the thought of trudging through the high country accompanied by a very unhelpful (but extremely eager) 2.5 year old, did nothing to inspire me. So I joined the rest of the consumers and bought a semi-attractive tree for less than $30.

Now my house is fully enveloped in the delicious aroma of Douglas Fir. LB witnessed her mommy literally stick her face in the tree branches while choosing which tree to purchase. My Gemini child now regards her Pisces mother with slight apprehension. She already thinks I’m crazy and I didn’t even have to wait till teenhood!

Seriously, can I forever inhale this aroma? Maybe its only this good because it comes once a year. Maybe the association with Christmas makes it that much sweeter. I can’t believe I deprived myself of this smell last year!  If a man walked by me smelling like conifers, I would probably turn on my heel and follow him off a cliff.  Maybe I am crazy, but just smelling a Christmas Tree sends me into a drug-like euphoria.

The space in my apartment may be closing in with the addition of the tree, but I would swap living area for the high of being near this smell any day. Jenn caught this VERY early this year. I think its official. I’ve been bitten by the Christmas Bug. I even decorated my office (and I HATE doing this, because its just assumed that its the secretary/receptionist/admin assistant’s responsibility).

In other news, I talked to Mr. Mediator today and asked if Rooferman had called to schedule an appointment yet, since we return to court again next Thursday (holy s***). Rooferman has NOT contacted him. Mr. Mediator commented on how shoddy this was for him to wait until the last minute, and I should NOT cover his ass and schedule this FOR him. He told me when my daughter’s father gets his act together and actually calls him, he will be happy to mediate. I immediately sent a text message to Rooferman, informing him of the situation and that THIS NEEDS TO HAPPEN SOON. So we’ll see if he did anything when I pick up LB tonight.

I guess we’ll also see if he offers to drive her home again tonight.

To answer Karma’s comment: LB has been telling me some things. Mostly that “Daddy angry. Daddy mad at me. I cry. I fall down.” Of course when I asked Rooferman about this, he says he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

I hope he gets coal in his stocking for Christmas.